


Feed Me Diamonds

by galactickitten



Category: The Following
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Original Character(s), Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactickitten/pseuds/galactickitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ignored by Ryan and working separately from the FBI, Mike finds a new, unconventional way to find out about the mystery surrounding the recent murders in New York, and how they might be part of a bigger plan than the FBI first thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

_A look, a glance, a gesture_

_Can mean everything and nothing_

 

* * *

I.

 

She wouldn't have noticed him if it were not for the badge.

Although she'd never gotten tangled with the police, she could recognize a federal badge anywhere. After all, her brother was one of them. How she ended up stripping in a dump like this was beyond her, but it suited her at least.

She spun on her heels behind the bar, idly counting liquor labels and ignoring the current show on stage. Emerald Skies wasn't even that good in her opinion, but guys go crazy for anything in a skimpy bikini sliding up and down on a pole apparently. "Cass, can I have something from the inventory yet?" She called idly to her partner in crime, currently exploiting another poor soul. The blonde raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, staring her down as she took the man's wallet and pulled out a bundle of singles, shoving them in her chest before throwing it back at him. "You know the rules better than I do, Cierra; no drinking from the inventory 'til after the club closes." Cassidy said simply, leaning against the bar and watching the show.

Cierra huffed, picking herself off the stool and removing the sad excuse for a dress as she left the bar. "I'm picking up my shift early," She called back to Cassidy, "don't wait up." "You're not getting paid extra, I hope you know that." She called back, smirking.

Backstage was overrun with miscellaneous panties and lingerie pieces. She hurriedly adjusted herself, checking her reflection in a fogged up mirror and trying to ignore the obvious grunts and moans coming from the supply closet. She smiled sweetly at Emerald as she finished her routine, strutting out in a matter of seconds as another rhythmic, heavy song filled the air.

It didn't surprise her they broke out into deafening cheers the minute the spotlight focused on her. She is their favorite after all. She ran her hands over her figure lightly, swaying in time to the baseline idly as she smiled at the crowd. Poor suckers were going to need to visit an ATM by the time she was done. She rolled her hips, moving farther down stage as one hand firmly grabbed onto the pole. She swung one leg up around the pole, exposing whatever wasn't covered by her thin, lace panties.

The crowd roared as she swung herself upside down, holding the position for a few fleeting seconds as a camera flashed from the corner. She landed swiftly, parading around the pole as rolls of dollars were thrown on the stage.

And that was when she spotted him.

Head hung low, hands in his pockets, she wouldn't have noticed him if the light hadn't caught the FBI badge peeking out underneath the fabric of his shirt. Shadowed by stubble, he looked older than he appeared, and baby blue eyes glancing around the club before resting on her. She saw his hands shift in his jacket pockets and he gave a small smile, no doubt assuming she couldn't make him out from her spot on the stage. She smiled back and gave a light-hearted wave before jumping back onto the pole and swinging around.

She caught his eyes again and smirked, watching him shift again on the wall. If her song hadn't ended she would've bothered him more, but it seemed the fun stopped there for the night. She bowed gratuitously for the crowd and blew them a kiss before bouncing backstage. She removed her heels and threw them in her locker, hastily changing to get back to work.

 

* * *

 

 

The crowd had slowly dwindled down after her performance, and by 2 in the morning the club was practically a ghost town. Cierra whistled, emerging from the backrooms, "Hey where'd the mob go? I was ready to sign autographs."

Cassidy rolled her eyes, "You've still got a fan left, and he’s been waiting to speak with you for some time now." She motioned towards the man from before, hunched over the bar and drumming his fingers on the bar top as he waited for a drink. Or her. She wasn't sure.

She stared at Cassidy, who simply nodded her approval before returning to task of cleaning shot glasses. Cierra shrugged, putting on a smile and walking over casually.

"Cass says you wanted to talk to me?" She said simply, hopping onto the seat beside him and resting a hand on his forearm, resisting the temptation to giggle as he jumped in his seat. He nodded briefly, looking her over. "You're...Kitty, I take it?" Cierra laughed, "Actually, my real name is Cierra Moore, Kitty is a stage name. Can I help you?"

He stared at her hand momentarily before gently removing it from his arm. "Not in ways you're familiar with. I'm Agent Michael Weston with the F.B.I; Derek Moore is your brother, right?" Weston asked, flashing the badge momentarily to prove his title. Cierra stared at him, squinting, "Yeah, did he send you here?"

It didn't surprise her when he shook his head. Of course her brother didn't know she worked here, if he knew she'd skipped out on school to throw her top off into a crowd of sweaty men he'd have a whole herd of cows. She leaned against the cold bar top, "Alright, so if no one sent you, then why are you here?" Weston glanced over his shoulder, motioning towards Cassidy who was still preoccupied with cleaning glasses.

Cierra whistled, biting her cheek to keep from smiling as the blonde jumped, nearly dropping the shot glass in her hands. She looked over her shoulder, staring past Weston and to Cierra. “What is it?” She said through clenched teeth.

“I need some alone time with G-Man over here.” She said, smiling as her friend rolled her eyes and stubbornly put away the few unclean glasses she’d have to deal with the following night.

And now they were alone.

“Alright, talk to me.” Cierra said curtly, hopping off the barstool and pacing around the empty table, looking over at Weston. “Do the names Luke and Mark Gray sound familiar to you?” He asked, pulling a small manila folder from his bag. She stopped pacing the tables, frowning as she stared at the folder.

“You mean the serial killer twins that have taken up most of the news channels? Of course I have, I watch the news.” She said bluntly, “But what do serial killer twins have to do with me?” “Well, the last known victim was abducted within a few miles from here, and several witnesses have claimed to see someone who at least looks like them in the area.” He started, pulling out the contents of the folder and handing them to her, “I figured it’s about time we get someone to start watching this area.”

“So you’re asking a federal agent’s sister, who is a stripper, to help you track down serial killers?” She asked, flipping through the blurred photos from security cameras and various testimonies before glancing up at him, “Does that sound like a good idea to you?” Weston sighed, leaning back against the bar and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re the only person I could find in this vicinity that’s connected to the FBI; I’m not asking you to do this because someone sent me, I’m asking you to do this because I’m at the end of my line and we’re always a step behind them. All I need is to catch at least one of them, and if you’re willing to help me then great, this will end sooner than expected and we can part as unlikely allies. If you don’t want to help me that’s fine, at least you know there’s a pair of serial killers running around at night, but if you could at least consider my offer, it’d be appreciated.”

Cierra stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds, glancing down at the papers in her hands and sighing. She mumbled under her breath before rolling her eyes and shoving the file and its contents into her bag. “Fine, I’ll try to help you, try being the key word. Just don’t tell my brother.” She said simply, crossing her arms. “No one knows that I’m doing this, so you’re in safe hands.” Weston replied, offering a small smile.

She shrugged, “As long as you’re not expecting me to tackle this dude to the ground and help you cuff him then we’ve got a deal. I was made for dancing, not catching killers, alright?”

He chuckled and nodded, “Sounds like we have a deal, Cierra.”

He offered his hand and she shook it firmly, letting go after she softened her grip and returned to gather her things to start the journey home.

Weston moved towards the door, holding it open for her as she tucked her bag under her arm. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It was nice to meet you, Cierra.” He stated simply, smiling.

She smirked, pushing her hair behind her ear, “I know.”

* * *

_Blind discipline, it’s useless_

_What's the good in being good?_

_So go ahead, feed me diamonds._

 


	2. Dearest Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek decides to pay his little sister an oddly timed visit. Cierra is pretty on edge.

_A look, a glance, a gesture_

_Can mean everything and nothing_

* * *

 II.

 

It wasn't until three in the afternoon the following day that Cierra managed to stir from her sleep. Her head slumped off the couch, jolting her from her slumber as her grip tightened around the half empty bottle of wine. She uncurled herself and sat up, placing the bottle on the coffee table and stretching.

Maybe drinking after work wasn't such a good idea after all.

She reached over and grabbed the remote, turning on the T.V. and flipping to some rerun of some soap opera she didn't care for as the doorbell rang. Groaning, she pulled herself off the couch and trudged over. She opened the door, staring back at the familiar face and simply grunting, "What do you want?"

The older agent smiled, steeping through the doorway and scooping his sister up in a tight hug, spinning her around as she protested his display of affection. "You haven't seen me in a few months, and that's how you great me? C'mon, I think your older brother deserve better than that." He chuckled, letting her go as she regained her balance, "And would it kill you to put on some pants? The curtains are open, people can see."

"Oh I'm sorry, did I make brother dearest sad? I've missed you terribly, you absolutely must stop by more often!" She mocked, smirking as she grabbed a pair of pajama shorts from underneath the couch, "And besides, Derek, I'm on the twelfth floor of an apartment complex, who is gonna see me, the window washer? The dudes practically blind anyway, I don't know why he's still working." Derek rolled his eyes, glancing at the T.V. as the show ended and was immediately followed by the news, the recent subway murders still the big headline of the day.

"You'd think they'd have something better to talk about after a day, right?" Cierra grinned, nudging her brother as he stared at the T.V. He shrugged, grabbing the remote and turning the program off before sighing.

"Cierra, can you promise me you won't get involved in any of this?" Derek asked, staring at his younger sister who suddenly seemed years younger.

She sighed, staring out the window as the window washer scaled down the side of the building, the same time as every day. "Derek, I'm an office secretary; I come get up, go to work, come home, and sleep, do you think I have any time to go running off with shady guys and committing murder?" Cierra said simply. Of course he didn't need to know about her other job, and he was not going to find out anytime soon if she played her cards right. After all, what he doesn't know can't hurt him.

"It's not that I'm worried you'll run off and help those psychos with their next kill, I'm worried **_you'll_** become the next kill. You don't understand, the news channels water it down for you and practically spoon feed you some preschool version of what happened. It's more than just some random nutjob snapping during the daily commute from work; this was the work of an organized group, or at least one organized enough to carry this out and not get caught within the first few hours." He explained slowly, choosing his words carefully as she stared up at him.

"Organized group, like a cult or something?" She said, smirking as her brother sighed, "Weren't you working on that Joe Carroll case a year ago or something? Is it related to him?" The little she knew of Joe Carroll was obtained from the mush the media had fed the nation throughout the ordeal the year before, and occasional glances at his private folders.

He nodded, "It might be related, I mean, they did shout 'Joe Carroll lives' and 'Resurrection', that's not something people usually yell unless they're planning something." A moment of silence passed between the two siblings before he sighed, ruffling her already messy bed head. "Can you just promise me you won't try to go looking into this? Stay safe, stay ignorant, stay calm. I'll try and get this sorted out as soon as possible with the others, okay?" He nodded, smiling and rubbing her hair even more as she squirmed in protest.

"If I promise will you stop screwing with my hair?" She grumbled, shoving his arm aside and crossing her arms over her chest, "'Cause if that's the case then sure I'll stay out of this serial killer business; I won't even touch it with a ten foot pole."

He chuckled and nodded, "Glad to hear it, cause it gotta get a move on. I took an extended lunch break; they probably need me back already. If you want I can drop by later with some dinner, if you're hungry of course."

"Yeah, don't come back." Cierra said bluntly, opening the door for him again, "Thanks for stopping bye, I'll stay out of murder-related things, and I'll make myself dinner. Goodbye."

He smiled widely, kissing the top of her head as he strolled out, "Talk to you soon, my little матрешка."

She nodded, smiling until he turned the corridor, slamming the door and grimacing. Turning on her heel, she quickly found her bag from the night before, ruffling through her clothes and finding the manila folder neatly tucked between her shoes. She pulled it out, opening it up on her coffee table and sitting back on the couch. She skimmed through the contents of the folder quickly, finding a small photo of Weston paper clipped to what she assumed would be his contact information. She hurriedly dialed the number listed on the back, waiting as the phone rang before he picked up.

“Did you tell my brother anything?” She said bluntly, glancing at the door, waiting to see if Derek would come back and catch her in the middle of the act.

 Weston, who’d barely managed to get a few hours of sleep after their confrontation the night before, looked up from his computer and raised an eyebrow. “No, I haven’t left my hotel room. Why, what happened?” He replied simply, slowly resuming his typing.

 “He came and visited me at my apartment. He never does that. Are you sure you didn’t tell him anything? Not even in passing or something?” She pushed the topic more; refusing to believe her undertaking this mission the night before and her brother’s visit were unrelated.

 “Did you ever think he was just trying to look out for you?” He questioned in return, “He is your brother, and he’s just looking out for you, it’s his job. The subway scare hit close to home, he’s probably just checking in on you.”

 She groaned, holding the phone away from her as she muttered angrily for a minute before continuing the conversation. “No, you don’t understand, my brother isn’t like that, he’s never been like that. He’s the golden boy in the family; you really think he’d lower himself to my level?” She waited silently as she heard Weston sigh on the other end and some muffled shuffling of what she assumed to be papers before he spoke up again.

 “I haven’t told him anything, and I don’t plan on telling him, or the F.B.I., anything.” He said simply, “That make you feel a little bit better?”

 She nodded, idly flipping through the files on the table. “So, when are you coming over to debrief me or whatever you agents call it?” She spoke up after a few seconds, sitting back on the couch. Weston stopped typing once again, stopping and glancing at the phone on the table as it crackled a little over speaker.

 “Debrief you? Excuse me?” He asked, picking up the phone and taking it off speaker, “What are you talking about, Cierra.”

 “I work tonight; we want to catch him don’t we? Tell me what I have to do and I can start looking tonight.” Cierra said, leaning back on the couch as she glanced at the clock, “Might want to hurry up too, I leave for work at eleven.”

 “Cierra, it’s only four in the afternoon.”

 “I know, but I start prepping early, so you coming over or what?”

He nodded, pinching his nose and saving his documents before closing his laptop. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a few minutes, just let me get some stuff first.” He responded simply, hanging up as he packed his bag and grabbed his keys, starting for the door.

* * *

 

_Blind discipline, it’s useless_

_What's the good in being good?_

_So go ahead, feed me diamonds._


End file.
